


Eternity

by punkrockgaia



Series: Eternity!Vale [1]
Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Fluffy Bunnies, M/M, Post Eternal Scouts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-15
Updated: 2014-05-15
Packaged: 2018-01-24 21:38:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1617950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punkrockgaia/pseuds/punkrockgaia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Biscuits, venison stew, a cozy house, and dreams come true.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eternity

**Author's Note:**

> This is the fluffiest Cecearl I've ever written, and one of the most fanciful. Sorry if it doesn't work, I just wanted to give ol' Earl a happy ending for once... And couldn't we all use a happy ending after that last episode? :)

Earl shrieked a very manly shriek of terror and scrabbled at the asphalt as the mute children dragged him down, down, down into the pit. Masters of us all, how deep could a pit in a parking lot be? Dirt fell into his eyes and filled his mouth and nose, choking him. He closed his eyelids against the grit and waited for death.

THUMP

Suddenly, he wasn't falling any more. Suddenly, the only dirt was the stuff he already had on board. He coughed and sneezed violently, and soon he could breathe again. He rubbed his eyes and eased them open. He was sitting in what looked to be an old-growth forest, sitting on his ass in front of an open door. The door was old, and weathered, and looked to be oak. It wasn't attached to anything. It was just a door. 

He hauled himself to his feet and looked at the door. As he looked through it, he could only see dirt. He looked to the left of the door. Trees and sunlight. He looked to the right. More trees, more sunlight. He poked the dirt, and some of it crumbled out of the pile and fell onto his boot. He shook his foot to get the clod off, then walked around to the other side of the door.

There was no other side of it. There was a space where the door should have been, but instead of an oak door, there was just that space. Earl hesitated for a moment, then stepped through the space. 

Nothing happened. He was still in the forest, just one step ahead of where he'd been a moment before. He turned around, and the door was gone. _Shit._

A lesser man might have panicked. A _non-Scout_ might have panicked. But Earl was not a lesser man, and he was not just a Scout, he was the **Scoutmaster**. So he did not panic. 

He looked up at the sky. The sun appeared to be lower on the horizon than it should have been, but at least there was only one sun, and it was the right color. He stopped and held his breath, and listened. He heard only the wind in the trees and birdsong, not an ungendered voice whispering sweet nothings, so it was unlikely that he was in the new forest that had sprung up to the east of town a few weeks before. Either that, or even the forest was rejecting him now. 

He kicked at the clod of dirt. _Pull yourself together, Harlan,_ he thought, sternly. This was no time for self-pity. He had to make a survey of the landscape. He had to figure out where he was. He had to figure out how to get back to... Where? Oh. Oh, yes, Night Vale. He had to get back to Night Vale. 

He put his hands on his hips and looked around. The forest seemed a little less dense to the southwest, so he headed off in that direction. In about 20 yards, he came to a rugged trail. It stretched out to the left and the right. He pondered for a moment, and found that his feet really wanted to go to the right, so he did as they urged.

Scouts always go where their feet want to go. 

Earl knew that he had to be careful, that he was in strange country, but he began to enjoy his unplanned hike despite himself. The air was sweet here, and much cooler than he was used to. It was beautiful, really. The sunlight was less harsh, muted by the leaves, and there was just a touch of pleasant humidity, as if there had been a brief, gentle rainshower earlier in the day. Once he figured out where he was, he'd have to make plans to come back.

The trail sloped gently downward and curved around and around, and Earl found himself whistling a tune. He couldn't recall the name of the tune, but it made him think of campfires and roasted marshmallows and catching crawdads in the creek. 

Wait. No. It was catching lizards in the desert. He grew up in the desert. No creeks, no crawdads. He was starting to wonder if he hadn't maybe hit his head. He supposed he should be worried, but for some reason, he wasn't. Who could be worried on such a gorgeous day?

The trail went around a final bend, and Earl came to a log cabin. It was smallish but in good shape, and the area around the cabin was nicely kept up but not fussy. It lay at the end of a dirt road, and there was a small gravel parking area. In that parking area was a car that, head trauma or not, Earl would have recognized anywhere. 

It was a 1986 Volvo 740 sedan, in the most godawful shade of brown that Earl had ever seen, at least in the spots that weren't rusted over. There were dents all along the sides from various parking mishaps. The rear bumper was similarly dented, but the dings were somewhat camouflaged by a ridiculous number of bumper stickers, promoting years of pledge drives. Though... something was off. The stickers read WTNV Community Radio, rather than... uh... N...V... C... R? That sounded right. Gods, everything before the door was getting so hazy.

He was standing behind the Volvo when the door to the cabin slammed open, and the owner of the car stepped outside. Earl looked up and felt his knees go weak, but that was nothing new.

"Early!" cried Cecil. He jogged down the three steps that led to the cabin's porch, then over to where Earl stood. Before Earl could ask him anything, Cecil swept him into a crushing hug, then kissed him. On the mouth. Hard. With tongue. Earl stood there and enjoyed it for a moment, then gently disentangled himself. Why was Cecil kissing him like that? What about, uh, Manuel? No, Carlos. But who was Carlos, again? And where the hell were they?

"Cee..."

"Oh, I'm so glad you're home! You can help me carry the groceries in." He opened up the trunk of his car and began handing brown paper bags to Earl. 

"Uh, Cee..." Earl shifted his weight and attempted to grip all five of the bags that Cecil had handed him.

"Ugh, what a day. Management's breathing down my neck again. I _told_ them I am a _radio professional_ , and they don't need to tell _me_ how to do my job." Cecil balanced a similar number of bags in his long, spindly arms. He wove his way up the porch stairs and opened up the screen door with a complicated series of gestures involving his left pinky finger, his foot, his hip, and his butt. He held the door open for Earl with his knee.

"Cee..." Earl staggered behind Cecil into a small, bright kitchen and put the bags on the counter. Something smelled delicious.

"And then, ugh, you won't believe it! I went to check on your truck -- it'll be done tomorrow morning, by the way, you can ride in with me -- and then I went to Rico's for lunch, right? And I wanted a sandwich. And they were out of whole-wheat bread. Can you believe it? I was like 'but white bread's bad for you,' and they were all like 'try the gluten-free, it's practically the same thing' and I was all --"

"CECIL!"

Cecil sat his bags down on the little kitchen table and blinked owlishly. "Yes?"

"What are we doing here?"

"Philosophically, or...?"

"No. Physically. What are we physically doing here? In this house?"

Cecil cocked his head to one side, clearly confused. "Why?" He gasped and put his hand to his mouth. "Oh, no! Did we have plans that I've forgotten? I'm so sorry, darling. You know how my memory is." He went over to a calendar hanging on the wall and squinted at it. "There's nothing written down... We have bowling with Josie on Friday, and you have the troop meeting tomorrow night, of course, but there's nothing down for tonight. I hope we weren't supposed to have dinner somewhere, I put the venison stew in the crockpot before I left."

"No, no, that's not what I mean... I mean, uh..." He trailed off. What _did_ he mean? It was like he was supposed to be somewhere else. Somewhere hot? A parking lot? What? His head started to spin, and he gripped the edge of the table for support. Cecil's worried face appeared in his field of vision.

"Earl? Baby, are you okay?"

"I'm, uh... I don't feel so good."

"You look pale. Sit down." Cecil tutted and flitted around him, pressing a hand to his forehead. "Ugh, you're clammy. Did you bring water with you on your hike?"

"I... I don't know." He didn't remember leaving for a hike, but he didn't remember not leaving for a hike, either. 

"I'm surprised at you, you know better than that." He frowned and grabbed a glass with a vintage-y pattern out of the cupboard and filled it from a pitcher in the refrigerator and took a granola bar from a cookie jar. "You're going to keep your butt in that chair, and you're not going to get up until you've finished that glass and one or two more and have eaten a snack. And if you're not feeling better after that, I'm taking you into town and to the hospital."

"Not to the bowling alley?"

Cecil looked at him strangely. "No. I said, we're going Friday. If you're feeling better. Why would I take you to the bowling alley while you're sick?"

"I'm not sure, actually. It was just a funny thought I had." Earl took a swallow of the water. It was cool and sweet and perfect. It was just what he needed; for some reason his throat was _parched_ as if he'd swallowed a ton of dust. He took another sip, and his head started to clear, then he took a bite of the granola bar. He was feeling better already. He said so.

"I'm feeling better already."

Cecil looked up from where he was placing produce in the crisper drawer and smiled. "That's wonderful, Dearest, but please relax, okay? I can put this stuff away."

Earl smiled back. "Okay. I like to watch you, anyway." He blushed. It felt like maybe he shouldn't say that, like it wasn't his place, but Cecil just flirtatiously waggled first his eyebrows and then his ass, and Earl relaxed. Of course it was okay to say stuff like that. Cecil was his... boyfriend? He looked at Cecil's busy hands and saw a glinting band on the third finger of the left one. Oh, yeah, not boyfriend. Husband. How could he have forgotten such a big thing? He'd better not mention that to Cecil, or he'd have him in the emergency room before he could blink. Either that, or he'd be sleeping on the couch for the next week. He drank more water. Oh, yes, he remembered now. They were married. They'd **been** married. His husband, Cecil. His beautiful, alluring husband, Cecil. He finished the granola bar.

Cecil stood and stretched his back, then brushed off his hands. "Well, that's that." He turned on the oven, then grabbed Earl's glass and refilled it from the pitcher then handed it back. "That's two, Mr. I-Don't-Care-If-I-Dehydrate."

"Thanks, Mr. Palmer-Harlan."

Cecil swatted him playfully on the shoulder. "That's Mr. Harlan-Palmer, I won that arm wrestling match fair and square. Well, square."

"Whatever you say, Cee Cee." As the fog in his brain lifted, so did his mood. He had no reason to feel nervous or confused; he was where he belonged. "Hey, do you know anything about a door? I feel like there's something I wanted to tell you about a door."

Cecil frowned. "No, not that I can think of. Did you tell Josie we'd put her screens up?"

"Yeah, that must be it, I guess."

Cecil walked over to the fridge again and pulled a bag of beige lumps out of the freezer. "I'm so glad you thought to freeze half the batch last time you made biscuits. You're so practical!" He laid out the biscuits on a cookie sheet and stuck them in the oven, then walked back to Earl. "There. Dinner'll be ready in about half an hour, forty minutes, my brave but foolish woodsman." He kissed Earl on the temple, and Earl pulled him down onto his lap. Cecil chuckled deep in his chest and wrapped his arms around Earl's shoulders.

"My, you _are_ feeling better, aren't you?"

"You know what would make me feel absolutely tip-top, though? A nice lie-down with you..." He kissed at Cecil's neck so that his husband would know that he didn't mean a nap.

"You haven't finished your water."

"I'll drink more with dinner, I promise. And I feel fine now. I promise."

"Well..."

"C'mon, Cee. You look so good... Watching you got me hot." He punctuated that last sentence by nibbling on his earlobe. Cecil groaned.

"Okay, you win, you big spoiled brat."

"Mmm, but I'm your big spoiled brat, Cee Cee." He stood and allowed Cecil to lead him by the hand. Truthfully, he wasn't 100 % sure how to get to their bedroom, but he wasn't going to tell Cecil that, not when he was so close to getting lucky.

Cecil led him to a ladder built into the wall and stopped. "Are you sure you're feeling okay, Early? I don't want you to fall."

"I'm fine, Cee, really. I promise. I'm Scoutmaster, remember?" At least, he was pretty sure he was the Scoutmaster.

"How could I forget? You wore your dress uniform to our wedding." He rolled his eyes but grinned fondly. "Okay, _Scoutmaster_ you go first. That way, if you get dizzy, you'll land on me."

"Cecil, that's a dumb --"

"Do you want me to go up to the loft with you or not?"

"Okay, okay, so I'll go first and we can both break our necks. Happy?"

"Ecstatic."

Earl shook his head and started up the ladder. As he did, another piece of the puzzle snapped into place. _Ah, yes, the loft._ The scene became familiar to him as he reached the top of the ladder. The room wasn't large, but it was cozy. There was a queen-sized bed with a worn violet comforter, a nightstand with a lamp shaped like a tree branch on it, a beat-up old wardrobe and dresser set, and a bookcase overstuffed with paperbacks. Earl smiled. He knew that the dresser drawers held neatly folded socks and underwear, that the wardrobe had Cecil's dress shirts and ties and his uniforms. He knew that the winter clothes were in storage in the basement at the moment, packed into Sterilite tubs, mothballs in with the woolens. He knew that downstairs there were three pictures on the mantle: one of his family, one of Cecil's niece, and one of them on their wedding day. He knew that he and Cecil always squabbled over the right way to hang toilet paper and how the toothpaste tube should be squeezed. He knew that Cecil cheated when they played Yahtzee, and he knew he cheated at Monopoly. He knew that their cat, Khoshekh, was outside right now, probably picking a fight with something bigger than him. 

He knew he was incredibly, blissfully happy.

He lay down on the bed, and Cecil lay beside him. Earl kissed him tenderly and brushed his hair back from his forehead. Then he kissed him harder, hands traveling down his wonderful, familiar body. He rolled on top of him, but then Cecil rolled back.

"Nn-nn-nn, no, no. You overexerted yourself today and gave me a fright. Let me do all the work, okay?"

Earl smiled lazily. "Oh, if you insist."

"Oh, I insist."

Earl closed his eyes in bliss as Cecil unbuttoned his shirt and slipped it off his shoulders, then undid his shorts and pulled them down. As he did, he clucked his tongue.

"Goodness, you're filthy. You're lucky that dirt turns me on."

"I am lucky. I'm the luckiest man alive." He looked deep into Cecil's eyes.

Cecil held his gaze for a moment, then threw back his head and shivered. "Gods, Early, I love you so much."

"I love you, too, Cee." Cecil _moved_ and as he did, his hips ground against Earl, filling him with bubbles and electricity. Earl groaned and grabbed his hips. "Cecil, you're **far** too clothed for my liking."

"Well, then, let me remedy that right now." Cecil again locked eyes with Earl and slowly, teasingly, started to undo the buttons of his shirt. 

Earl groaned. "Cecil..."

"Good things come to those who wait."

"Cecil, the biscuits. They'll burn."

Cecil stopped his movement and blinked. "Oh. True story. Let's get on with it, then, shall we?" Earl giggled as Cecil quickly stripped off his clothes and removed Earl's boxers. When they were both naked, Cecil lay next to him and ran his long, cool fingers up and down Earl's glory trail. "Sooo, now that we're similarly unclad, what would you like to do?" He paused, then smiled apologetically. "No blowjobs, not until you take a bath. Sorry."

Earl snorted. "I think I can deal with that." He ran his palms over his husband's smooth, tattooed shoulders. "No, Cee Cee, I want you to _ride_ me. I want to see your beautiful face, please?"

"Ohh, yes, Early Bird, yes..."

Cecil reached over to the nightstand and opened the drawer, pulling a tube of lubricant out. He lubed his first two fingers and began to reach around behind himself, but Earl grabbed his hand. 

"Let me." He squeezed a glop of the gel onto his hand and kissed Cecil as he gently worked his first finger inside him. Cecil moaned and slowly rutted against his hip as he did, then made use of his slick hand to stroke Earl with tight, deliberate strokes. Earl didn't know how much more of it he could stand, so he added another finger, then a third, until Cecil writhed against him and whimpered. Earl bit gently at the delicate skin on the side of Cecil's neck. "You ready, Baby?"

"Yesss..." Cecil pushed himself up onto his knees, then straddled Earl. He bit his lip and lowered himself onto Earl, then started to gracefully rock back and forth, up and down.

It was amazing. Cecil was tight and hot and moved like a dancer, and as he did, memories began to flood Earl's mind faster and faster. Their first date. Their first kiss. The day they moved into the house. The day Cecil proposed. Their honeymoon, spent in that very bed. Their life together. It was all too much, and Earl felt himself begin to peak. He grasped Cecil's hips firmly.

"Slow down a minute, Cee Cee."

Cecil was flushed and his eyes were bright. "Is something wrong, Early Bird?"

"No, no, I'm just close, and I want you to come with me."

Cecil made a sound somewhere between "umm" and "uff" as Earl grasped him and began to stroke. "Oh, you're so romantic." His eyelids fluttered shut and he began to move his hips again, speeding up as little gasps and squeaks escaped his throat. Earl looked at his face and sped his fist, and soon Cecil was crying his name as the first hot drops of his climax pattered down onto Earl's belly and chest, and Earl was lost. He thrust his hips up and buried himself deeply in Cecil, his spine filled with stardust, a shuddering beginning in his soul that went on forever and ever. Afterward, he pulled Cecil down to lay on his chest. Cecil buried his face in Earl's neck and groaned.

"Yuck! Now we both need a bath." 

"Why don't we take one together? We can put the oven on low and keep the biscuits warm; they're probably done now."

"Mmm, okay, that sounds like a deal." Cecil got up and slipped on a dressing-gown from the chair next to the bed. He offered Earl his hand, and Earl sat up. Cecil picked up his and Earl's clothing and folded it, placing it on the chair. Then he snapped his fingers and turned to face Earl. 

"I almost forgot to tell you. When I got home, there was a message on the machine, asking about a tour."

 _Oh, yes, of course, the adventure tours,_ thought Earl. The last of the confusion dissipated as he remembered himself, leading groups of city slicks through his beloved woods. Being Scoutmaster was where his heart was, but the tours brought in the money and left him lots of free time to hike and hunt and fish. "Oh, yeah? Did you save it?"

Cecil looked sheepish. "Well, no... See, it was some company looking to do a corporate retreat, from some place called Desert Bluffs."

"Never heard of it."

"Me neither, but for some reason, the guy on the phone gave me the willies. He just sounded too cheerful, you know? So I erased the message. I'm sorry, I know we could use the money. I'm sure if we looked it up, we could find the number. It was something called Strexcorp Synernists."

Earl made a face. "What the hell's a synernist? No, that's okay. I don't really like doing the corporate things. The last thing I need is for some stiff in a suit to drown on my watch." 

Cecil looked relieved. "Thanks, Earl. I know you probably think my hunches are silly."

"Of course not! If I didn't know better, I'd swear you had the second sight. Now come on, let's get ourselves cleaned up."

"Okay." Cecil helped Earl up off of the bed and started down the ladder. Earl hung back for a moment, looking around, unbelievably content. Since they'd retired to the bedroom, the sun had gone down and a brilliant crescent moon had risen outside. A beam of light came through the window and illuminated a framed poster on the wall. "Welcome to Night Vale, Kentucky," it read, in a slightly kitschy, swoopy script. "A friendly Appalachian community. Come for a minute, stay for an eternity." "Welcome to Night Vale," Earl repeated, smiling, then climbed down the ladder to join his husband in the bath.


End file.
